


SHOCKING NEWS: The mayor is sick! A coincidence or assasination atempt?

by bartholomewtheant



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, How Do I Tag, Other, Overworking, Sickfic, and some of my own stuff, insipired by nerdfictiond dicord headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29743290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bartholomewtheant/pseuds/bartholomewtheant
Summary: Damien is so dedicated to his new post that he forgets about life around him, alas an average attempt at sickfic.
Relationships: Celine | The Seer/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, Damien | The Mayor & Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?), Damien | The Mayor/Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	SHOCKING NEWS: The mayor is sick! A coincidence or assasination atempt?

He was tired. That was first thought going through his mind as the hands gently shook him awake.

_Just let me sleep. Please let me sleep._

„Mayor. Mayor, sir, can you please wake up.“

„Huh?“ Oh. The whole being a mayor of this city thing. It shot him awake. The headache kicked in immediately. „What- what‘s happening? What time izzit?“ words got bit slurred by the waking mind. It was apparently dark outside.

„It’s… the Cheesecake Ripper, sir,“ the servant or maybe a secretary whose name was escaping him, nervously shifted weight from leg to leg.

„And?“

„And the police wants your statement. And uhhh…“ the boy seemed to hesitate with more news „and the city is on fire.“

 _Oh for fucks sake,_ thought Damien and then added some more words unworthy his post. It was just second month in the office and besides from the mess left from the oh-so-dear person before him, there was already serial killer, bunch of protests and now a damn fire?

He grabbed the cane and some coat and sprinted through The office. At first, the small bedroom hidden behind Major‘s office seemed useless but now? He haven’t seen his house in weeks. _I didn’t like it anyway. So empty, so so empty._

Yn was waiting outside the door. It took one worried look for Damien to slow down. Not much could have been done but at least hair was put into less messy shape and coat straightened over satin pyjamas.

Then, together, they walked into chaos. Cold air hit them in the face. Noone turned off the police car lights so they were flickering all over the the plaza. Sirens were blaring. People were arguing and shouting over each other. With corner of his eye Damien could see Yn instinctively hunching.

Deep breath. _Don’t cought._ Shoulders square. Look mayorly. Just like dad. _Ignore the headache._ Deep breath. Collected thoughts. And now… deal with this mess.

When the city and the problems stopped burning, the sun was already rising. Mayor was needed in his office. He got dressed properly, got like minute in the bathroom and secretary, the same nervous boy, whose name was apparently Justin, brought him coffee and breakfast. The appetite, even though it smelled delicious, was nonexistent so he made himself sip coffee and try to control shaky hands.

There was so many letters. And reports. It was time to go through them untill the lunch with police chef at 12. He flipped through few of the letters. Ball invitation? _Celine?_ Letter with that name was carefuly shifted aside. That one could wait for later. Now was time to listen to the people, or those who were angry enough to send him letters.

_-and this is why I think the location of the dog park is crucial to-_

His eyes slipped from the paper to the wood of the table. It was still the same shade of wood like when father brought him in the office as a kid. Same coffee stains, same scratches… He remembered the times when he got to sit in that chair and feel important while doodling on a piece of paper. The chair felt more comfortable then. As a kid, he pretended to be mayor, listening to the meetings, scribbling letters in colorful pens and sticking random stamps on them. Sometimes he listened to dad talking big words and layed his head on the table, closing the eyes for just a second-

„Huh?“ This time it was someone gently shaking him awake. He opened heavy eyelids and got view of… pants? Yn was sitting on the table, reading a newspaper. Smell of fresh coffee was in the air.

„Wha- what?“ A sigh and shrug was all he got as an answer. So they sat in silence between sips of coffee and Damien noticed his desk was significantly cleaner than before. His eyes wondered over straightened pile of letters, from pens put back into their basket to clock-

„Oh shit.“ The lunch with the chef of police. It was 11:55. He jumped out of chair, nearly shilling the coffee. If he runs he can still make it. Grab the staff, coat, scarf… it’s incredible how one nap on the table can make so many body parts hurt. Yn fixed his hair while he tried not to wince in pain. _Best way to get rid of this should be movement,_ he decided, sprinting down the stairs. He passed the street almost without looking, almost ran into elderly lady, around the corner, over the slippery ice…

He didn’t make it over icy pavement. Slipped and fell on his back. _The sky looks lovely today,_ he thought as snow fell on his face. It hurt, oh it hurt so bad that he probably cried in pain at one moment.

Noone seemed to notice or care. Still, he had to use wall for stability to stand up. Bitting his lip he tried to step on his left leg.

Bad idea.

Nails scratched the wall desperately. For a second he thought he would never walk again. Then he braced himself and with the help of the cane did a step. And another. At this point cane must have been taking his whole weight, thank god it wasn’t only a decorational thing.

„Mayor- oh dear godness, you look-,“ he reached the restaurant and was greeted by chefs wife. It was an elderly woman, could as well be his grandma, but she looked very polite and somewhat warm.

„I had an accident on my way here. Now if you allow me… after you.“

The dinner went well. Or at least he thought so. They definitely talked about something and he ate… maybe. Probably. At least a salad. He didn’t exactly feel hungry but for sure was thankful for place to sit down. Left leg had some objections to standing up.

As he limped towards The office he thought of person that has been the closest to him recently. Yn has been there for every step he took, not counting these attempts, leaning against the cane. But even a friend (?) who was there for him day and night must have plans of their own. One day they are going to leave him on his own, he was sure of that. If only there was something that could keep Yn close to him, some position maybe…

He was too tired to think of that. Just one feet in front of another. Shoe, cane, shoe and repeat. It shoudn’t be so hard. He dismissed the idea that this dizziness, tiredness and the explosive headache could be a symptom of something more than overworking. No time to be sick now. He’ll just go to The office, maybe have a nice bath and rest the ankle. He may even go home. With that idea he opened the door to his office.

„What is this?“

„That’s your suit sir, for todays ball sir…“

Of course. The ball. The invitation was on the table and Damien distictively remembered agreeing to it. What was the occasion? Some Oscar or acting award maybe? It must be on the invitation.

Invitation was confirmed that it was indeed a celebration of some acting event, movie was shot in the city, mr and mrs Devon expect your attendance, there was a plus one in lovely golden letters…

Did he invite Yn? Usually they were his person of choice for this kind of events. He probably invited them.

At least there was time to take a shower. He limped into the bathroom and let the water run over him.

„What are you doing here?“

„You requested a shave, sir.“ The boy reluctantly held razor and towel, like it could protect from sharp questions.

„That doesn’t mean someone- you- someone should shave me. And just like that, in my office?“

„I didn’t mean to-.“

„Alright, it’s okay, just leave it here, I’ll manage.“ He picked up the razor and the cream from the table. The equpment looked old, almost as it passed down from mayor to mayor. He wondered if his dad used it, as he shakily mixed and applied the substance. Wandering through memories it almost escaped him that someone was standing across the table. Not until he held up the razor.

„Jesus- I, I almost cut myself.“ Yn was standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. Without seeing them enter the room – but maybe they were there when he walked out of the bathroom – or hearing them come to the table.

„Dear friend…“ he started, wondering if he should ask about the ball, „what’s the matter?“

Stern look directed on the razor.

„No I am fine. Absolutely fine,“ Damien protested and readjusted the mirror. His hands were definitely shaky and without seeing properly-

Yn didn’t waste any time and just took the razor out of Damien’s faintly protesting hands. They put hand on his forehead to tilt it back but quickly retreated it like someone touching a burning stove. Which was a good analogy for the temperature.

„I’m fine.“

Yn looked like they were going to slap him. Instead they crossed their arms.

„I just need to make it through the evening. It’s just few hours and it’s really important. I’ll be fine, I promise.“

Yn tilted his head again, this time avoiding the forehead and gently touching the chin instead.

„Can you please be careful around the- ah please don’t touch my neck, okay, okay.“

Few minutes after Damien was attending the work and eyeing the suit in the corner. Yn didn't seem to be getting ready for the event. Should he ask? He should definitely ask.

„Yn, my dear friend… You’re coming to the ball with me, right?“ Well that should have been worded better. The dear friend frowned. It was a confused frown. He franaticaly searched for words that could tidy up the hole he just dug out for himself. Only if the headache went away, it was like pushing thoughts through fog.

„My dear, if I didn’t make it clear, can I invite you with me now? Please?“ Yn crossed their arms again and shook their head.

„Please? I apologize for not talking about it earlier, it’s just that I’ve been very busy-,“ he realized that at this point it was all just excuses excuses. Yn’s expresion didn’t change, they made simple gesture.

_I can’t._

„Okay, alright, that’s fine, that’s fine.“ Were they getting tired of being called Mayor’s lover by gossip magazines? Were they busy? Was there someone Yn could be busy with? His arm moved to support heavy head as he shifted to the papers again.

Hours passed and this time he stayed awake. The suit was fitted, but unfortunately, last time it was well fitted was last month and the days on the job took their toll. Of course he ate food, what do you mean? Sometimes, when there was time. Or when he was hungry.

Buttoning up the shirt he saw himself in the mirror. Maybe noone will notice the dark circles and if so, they can just say they have a hardworking mayor. That’s what the city needs.

This time he actualy got driven to the ball. Still, with support of his cane he stepped into the glossy room. It was giant and full of music, laughter, clinking…

Putting on a smile he stepped into the chaos. Trying to just gently rely on the cane with each step he stopped by circles of people, one by one, remembering just a one tiny thing about someone to make them feel special. The bright lights from golden chandelier danced on the walls and made room slightly spin.

Before given any time to stop and admire the lights or at least catch breath, someone slapped his shoulder.

„Damien!“ It was Mark, the voice seeming louder than everything in the room for a moment. „Old pal, haven’t seen you in ages! How’s it going? You look thinner,“ with that, he elbowed him in the ribs.

„Ughmffs-,“ was all the mayor could say. Obviously Mark would be here. He was an actor after all.

„Alright friend, I see you’re busy, we’ll catch up later!“ his friend yelled and disapeared into the crowd before Damien had a chance to yell „Wait-!“

He was just left standing there.

„You were left all alone, young boy, weren’t you? Your friend no longer has time for you?“ And elderly woman appeared next to him. It was the wife of the chef of the police. He searched for the name. _Sybille._

„Oh well he didn’t have time for me since-.“ He stopped himself. Why would he tell that to a random woman? She didn’t need to know that. Slicking back his hair and putting on a smile he turned to her.

„My friend is a very busy man…“

Sibile stayed with him for quite few hours. It was a fierce old lady who seemed to know more about him that one would expect. She introduced Damien to her friends, older people, some of them actors. One could tell how snobbish they were by amount of disgusted gestures she made behind their back. Some of them were nice. None of them were as exhausting to be around as the people who had way too many questions about the city. And none of them mentioned the cane. Well, almost noone. One older stunt double mentioned how pretty it was and that he should get one for himself.

He had a glass of champaine in hand when Mark appeared out of nowhere and hugged him. It just slipped through his fingers as he tried to regain his balance. Shattering echoed on the marble floor.

„Oh my god, Damien, can’t you hold your own glass!“ Mark laughed at him as one of the butlers ran around with broom. „Anyway, I have to intro-duce you to someone.“ It was obvious now that his friend has been drinking. Mark grabbed Damiens arm and started dragging him somewhere.

He slipped, second time today, on the champaine and with his injured leg.

„Whoa!“ called out Mark as he caught Damien before hitting the ground. „Easy there, pal.“ He seemed to have no trouble puting him back on his feet and then continuing to drag him towards someone.

It was a tall woman.

„Alright, Alcina, this is my friend Damien, the mayor. Damien, this is Alcina, my uhm, friend, lady Dimitrescu.“

„Nice to meet you,“ the weary man extended his hand to kiss the ring properly, by old customs. The woman laughed.

„He is adorable, Mark. Why didn’t you introduce us sooner?“ This was one of the rare times Mark was left without an answer, just with cheeky smile. „Now, the proper gentleman would ask lady if we shall dance, dear.“

Damien, still regaining his honour and balance every second tried to protest but his friend intervent.

„Wait, Mark, I can’t-.“

„You can and you will. I’ll hold your precious little cane. Didn’t you go to ballet classes as a kid? Now go.“

And with that, the room started spinning, this time on purpose. Lady Dimitrescu could for sure be called beautiful but he had barely time to notice that, between all the steps and pain it induced. They danced. Then again. Then at the third dance they started accidentaly crashing into people. With rest of his honour, he navigated back to Mark.

„Did a pretty lady make you run out of breath Damien?“ his friend asked, amused by the situation. „Do you need a moment? Maybe outside?“ Between the attempts to catch his breath, Damien nodded. „It’s fine, I know you were always the one to get lost in someones eyes, excuse me,“ Mark grabbed Damien’s arm and pulled him through people to the entrace.

„Cane- the cane please…“ stuttering out of breath he requested. It was getting heavier and heavier.

„Sure thing here you go. Now… I know we didn’t have chance to catch up but I really wanted to see how you’re doing… the mansion is very empty now, sometimes it even fe…“

But Damien didn’t hear the rest of that as with first breath of cold air and out of sight of peering eyes his vision went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 - recovery coming soon


End file.
